The combination has a small whimper escaping my parted lips as slick rushes between my legs, and my clit pulses for attention. He nips at my shoulder through the sleeve of my sundress, and a shudder works its way through me.
He groans as I submit. Almost unconsciously, I’ve angled my head, giving him full access to my throat. He brings one large hand up, circling my neck and securing my head against his shoulder. As my perfume and pheromones fill the air with a scent that’s very much full of my body begging to be fucked.
I know he’s aware of the cues. And the slight lift of his hips against my bottom is teasing enough for me to release another whimper. Need, sharp and insistent, has me twisting in his arms. His hands still loosely around my throat like a necklace, but he lets me move—encourages it really. My dressrides up a tiny bit as I settle fully on his lap, my knees on either side of his. His fingers flow to the back of my neck, and he pulls me closer, capturing my lips with his.
Everything’s forgotten as he deepens the kiss. And I mean absolutely everything. All that exists is the two of us. His musk, my perfume, and this growing, insistent lust between us. Until someone clears their throat.
Not someone, a cameraman. I almost yank myself out of Miles’ arms as the realization hits me that I completely forgot about being filmed. And Miles must remember to because he releases me. I sink back into my chair, my face flaming hot, and I know I’m flushed, not just from embarrassment but from the desire still burning through my veins.
I curl my fingers around the arms of the chair, holding myself in it. My gaze darts to Miles, and he’s clearly worked up. His chest heaves as he watches me with a look that says his restraint may not last and not even his hurt ankle will stop him from giving chase if I run. Not that I’m going to run. But we both remember what happened last time I did.
A forbidden thrill rushes through me. Would he pin me against another door and fuck me senseless this time? Would the cameras filming stop him?
He mouths ‘Don’t’, as if he can read my mind. I will my muscles to unbunch and relax.I am not running. I am not running.Shit, I think I’ve just discovered a new kink. I like to be caught. Or maybe it’s just being caught by him.
“Lilah—” he growls out a warning that goes straight between my legs. My stomach drops. Pheromones saturate the air, and his nostrils flare as he inhales. His eyes darken, and he curls his fingers in, beckoning me back to him. “Come here.”
I freeze in my seat. Breaths lift my chest as our gazes hold. The hairs on my arm stand at attention, even without his words being a command. Why do these men make my omegawant to roll over and show her belly? Hell, I never even willingly submitted to Jared. Maybe that should have been a red flag that he wasn’t for me. But it was all I knew at the time.
This, right now, right here…it feels natural. Submitting to his words is something every single part of my soul wants. Even if it could make it onto TVs. And it probably would, at least the kisses.
Omega in Paradiseshows that kind of stuff all the time. They ramp up even more, showing the touches and scenes where the pairs slip away from the cameras. The film crews caught them from afar.
Still, I listen, finding my feet and stepping closer again. He reaches for me, pulling me between his spread legs. His fingers trail up my thighs and over the swell of my hips, before wrapping his arms around me and tugging me even closer. He nips at my stomach through the sundress. Then lays his head on my abdomen, closing his eyes and steadying his breathing.
I run my fingers through his silky hair and hold him to me. My lust settles to a level that doesn’t have me wanting to fuck him in front of the cameras. And I know without speaking that he’s holding me to satisfy his alpha’s desire to possess me in any way possible. The low rumble of his purr seeping into my bones, mixing with tiny little growls to warn off anyone within hearing are all the proof I need.
That’s how Rafe and Elliott find us when they step out of the house with trays of food. I attempt to step back and find my seat, but Miles twists me around in his arms and settles me on his lap.
“Stay here,” he says.
Okay, so maybe he’s not as soothed as I thought. I sink into his warmth, and he ramps up his purring.
Elliott smiles faintly as he drops to his chair and moves the spare plate in front of Miles and me. “I guess Miles getsthe pleasure of making sure you eat.” His attention catches on Rafe, who’s still standing, watching the two of us. “Rafe, sit.”
Rafe shakes off whatever thoughts he was having and folds into his seat. Although, I’m pretty sure that what I thought I read in the depths of his eyes was a trick of the light. Because it looked like he wanted to tear me out of Miles’ arms and hold me instead. And that can’t be what I saw because he’s not here to find an omega.
Woodenly, Rafe piles his plate with food. The teasing and joking from before he went into the house is dried up in the face of the tension in the air.
My perfume and pheromones are still putting off hints of,spread me out on the table and eat me instead,scents. And I’m pretty sure my pussy’s crying for a knot with all the slick that I can feel anytime I shift.
Still, I eat each bite that Miles brings to my lips. Protesting only when I feel like I’m going to burst.
Elliott lays his napkin down over his plate. “What did you think?”
“Everything was delicious,” I say honestly. “Where did you learn to cook like that?”
He shifts his attention to Rafe before saying, “It was all Rafe. I just did what he told me to do.”
“You cooked that?” I point at my empty plate, eyes going wide with disbelief.
He gives me a dry look. Poking his tongue into his cheek, he rubs his fingers over the eight o’clock shadow he’s grown over the day. “Yeah, I’m multi-talented.”
I flush at the double meaning to his answer. Then watch as he slowly runs his tongue over his lower lip as if he’s remembering tasting me and the earth shattering orgasm he gave me.
“It was amazing,” I admit, and a fire lights in the depthsof his eyes. He stands up abruptly and tugs me out of Miles’ lap.
“Time for a movie,” he informs me as he leads me down to the luxurious pile of blankets and pillows. He urges me down in the middle and kneels to slip my sandals off of my feet. Placing them off of the side of the blanket. The other two join us as Rafe stands back up and kicks off his shoes. “Lean forward, sweetheart, it’s my turn to hold you.”
